The king’s meeting room radiated a tense and anxious energy as the princess and one of the king’s older advisors argued back and forth. It was a scene that the council had grown used to since the princess had come of age to attend the meetings nine years ago, but with the severity of the issue at stake, their usual civil argument was inching closer to a shouting match. Princess Nita sat with her arm clasped in front of her on the round table, wearing an impassive stone mask that belied the fire burning in her purple eyes, while advisor Kirin, the man she was arguing with – and had argued with at almost any given opportunity – stood with one hand outstretched, while the other was placed on his heart, and he spoke in a soft but clear voice. Nita thought he wore the image of patience and empathy very well, but leaning forward and looking directly into his hard, unforgiving eyes, she recognized that in him, there was no room for debate, understanding, or compromise. He smiled gently at her in the way one would smile when trying to appease a fitful child.
“But why the World-bearer? Why not ask Dreakar? They’re our parent planet, after all, or even the Galactic Union,” Kirin said, looking around at the other advisors for support he knew would be forthcoming. “Don’t you think going to Marak is …well, random?” He said, and as he had anticipated, the room filled with murmurs of agreement. He beamed proudly, then adjusted his robes before sitting down.
Nita did not bother replying until she met each of the mummers’ gazes with a withering glare to silence them. If they were too afraid to share their opinions openly, then she preferred them to remain quiet instead of filling the room with their disruptive grumbling. That was the one redeeming quality she found in advisor Kirin. He, at least, was bold enough to challenge her openly, even though she knew he only did it out of spite.
“Not random at all, Advisor Kirin,” Nita said as she stood up, and began to walk around the table. “These questions you’ve posed tell me clearly that you have no vision for the advancement of Juntia. That goes for the rest of you as well. You have allowed your thinking processes to stagnate, and you should know very well that if we allow the head that makes decisions for the planet to suffer stagnation, the rest of the planet will follow suit, and turn stale and rotten.” An unfortunately apt metaphor, given the current state of the planet.
The advisors began speaking up against the insult at once, and some rose from their seats in fury. Princess Nita, remaining unfazed, lifted her hands and clapped. The loud, clear sound cut cleanly through the air, startling the advisors into silence, and before they had the chance to speak again, she continued.
“Do you want to remain a ‘simple colony planet’ forever? Do you not want independence?” She said, her voice turning harsh with disdain.
Then, although she was addressing them all, she glared hard into Advisor Kirin’s eyes, not bothering to disguise her animosity and contempt. “Is the best solution you all can come up with, after your long years of service to the king, running with your horns broken and tails tucked between your legs to your parent planet?” She said, then stayed quiet to allow her statement to sink in, and give them an opportunity to speak up. When no one did, she continued.
“If we ask for help from Dreakar like you’ve advised, they’ll increase our taxes. If we go to the GU, they may ask for some sort of unbalanced deal for our meager resources; more likely, they will direct us back to Dreakar.”
“What about the Lupaine?” Jila, an elderly woman, said in a weak voice.
“Now, that’s a half-decent suggestion, but help from the Lupaine is uncertain. There’s no guarantee that they will accept our request for aid. As you know, they deal with much bigger problems than the woes of random colony planets. No matter how dire the situation is to us, it will not warrant the attention of Rickandel Lupaine,” Nita said, turning to the woman, who shrank back slightly.
She continued. “But for the sake of argument, let’s think along those lines. Let’s imagine that the Luapine does come to our aid. Let’s even imagine that they save us from this blight devastating our planet. Then what? Once they’re done, they’ll pack up and leave.” She said, then paused as she got her main point.
“What I want is more than just momentary aid or goodwill. I want to form connections. What I want for us is to have allies.” She said, emphasizing each word by hitting her fist to her palm. “We may never become a GU planet, but we can become independent like many other colony planets have done in the past. Reaching out to Marak’s World-Bearer is the first step. Marak will ask for nothing from us. They will either do it or reject us. There is nothing to lose, and everything to gain. If we’re rejected, we’ll go to Dreakar or the GU, like you’ve suggested. But if they help us?” She smiled, and the flames of ambition burned so brightly in her eyes that the room seemed to grow hotter. “If they help us, I swear to you all that I will make them allies to the throne of Juntia.”
She made her way back to her seat and sat down, this time facing the man at the head of the table as she spoke. “Our vegetation and crops dying is a great misfortune… The gravest disaster the planet has experienced, but allow me to dictate how it will be written in the history books for the generations to come: ‘The fields of Juntia turned black as the plants wilted and died prematurely. The soil was blighted and grew no more grain. The people, in desperation, set the planet ablaze with fire, trying to burn away the rot, and they despaired when all failed. Little did they know that what they assumed were flames of desperation would evolve into the flames of liberation that burnt away the title of ‘colony planet’, rising from the ashes as a dignified independent planet…’” There was rapture in her voice as she spoke that spread to those around her, and no one seemed to be able to sit still.
Her words wafted through their bodies like smoke, intoxicating them with her thoughts. Some were carried along, eyes glazed over. Entranced by the vision of the future she proposed. Others wrung their fingers or glared in obvious discomfort at her ambition and passion. They all sat quietly, staring expectantly at the king seated at the head of the table. King Garon sat with his chin on his fist, his gaze languidly sweeping over everyone present before meeting his daughter’s burning gaze. Instead of immediately looking away as protocol dictated, she boldly stared back, not breaking eye contact or backing down as if daring him to disagree with her. Although he was the king and her father, they both knew Nita would not hesitate to exploit any weakness she perceived in him. Though his expression remained impassive, King Garon was pleased by her boldness. After all, he was the one who had trained and sharpened her ambition.
He expected nothing less from her, but to challenge the king’s gaze for so long was an act of outright disrespect still, his gaze as he looked into his daughter’s brilliant purple eyes, the same shade as his, was vast, deep, and impenetrable, like an ocean of steel, giving nothing away. Nita, seeing her father’s unwavering gaze at her challenge to him, understood immediately that nothing she could do would ever topple his authority. Her father’s right to rule had been proven, time and time again, through years of dedication and results. Compared to him, her outbursts and passion seemed childish and idealistic at best. The silence in the room had become awkward as the King and Princess faced each other. Becoming keenly aware of the stares of the council and of how her attempt to challenge the King only emphasized her own immaturity, Nita shifted her gaze to the table. A shadow of a smile briefly flickered across King Garon’s face, then he finally spoke.
“My daughter grows wiser each day,” he said calmly. “Though I would caution the future queen to temper her passions so that her good-intentioned efforts will not turn our trusted advisors into enemies and that the fire in her blood will not burn her own allies on her brilliant ascent to the throne.” He paused briefly. “There is nothing to be lost in negotiations with Marak besides time,” he said to the advisors, then turning to the princess and emphasizing his words, “Nothing to be lost besides time, but that lost time may be all that is left of Juntia. I will give you free rein over this issue. As always, you know what expectations I have of you, and you rarely fail to meet them. I trust this will not be one of those rare occasions.”
“My King, your trust in me is never misplaced, just as my trust in you is never misplaced,” she said, smiling triumphantly. “As always, I apologize for my rudeness to our noble advisors, and I assure you all that I will not fail Juntia.”